


All I Want From You

by cabinetcaligari



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Cross-Generation Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Hand Jobs, Legilimency, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinetcaligari/pseuds/cabinetcaligari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is the father of my best friend, my Dad's nemesis, maybe an ex-Death Eater, and probably not even gay. Also, my illicit obsession for years. So why do I find myself standing on his doorstep right now, asking him if he will give me extra lessons in Arithmancy?</p><p>I consider running, but Malfoy already opens the door, smiling a rather nasty smile. ‘Albus. Do come in.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want From You

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Birds, your wonderful prompt immediately got my imagination running. Also, your List of Likes and Loves is a treasure, and gave me all the inspiration I needed. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you'll have as much pleasure reading it.
> 
> Also, many thanks to my wonderful beta for helping me with the SPaG and for whipping this story into shape <3

I like men.

That isn't much of a confession, not much of a surprise. But finding myself attracted to _him_ , that is a surprise, and a truth I'll never find myself unveiling.

The men part was easy enough, actually. You know, although he never said as much, I suspect Dad of the same preference. He and Mum divorced quite some time ago, but remained friends. Not that clichéd friends thing, but real friends, as far as I can judge. They see each other at least once a week. At dinner with Uncle Ron and Hermione and all their children. In the pub with their other Hogwarts friends. On top of that, Mum slaughters Dad in a friendly Quidditch match as often as possible. If she's not in Malaysia or something equally exotic, that is. You see, Mum travels all around the world negotiating shop openings for George – they've build an imperium, those two. So Dad takes care of us three when we're home. That doesn't stop him, however, from sneaking out of the house every so often, and coming home deep in the night. The next morning, at breakfast, he's always a bit rumpled and smiles quite goofy, sometimes smelling of a strange cologne. I like him that way, how he looks carefree and happy.

He once tried to have The Talk with me, about the bees and flowers and all that jazz. We both didn't really look at each other, our scraping throats the only sound in the room. After I relocated my voice, I told him I am actually only interested in the bees. I felt rather nervous, but he smiled, ruffled my hair, and simply said he loved me.

*

A far more worrisome thing, though, is the subject of my current attraction. And with current, I mean ever-present since two years ago when I first saw him on the platform for the Hogwarts Express, while I was looking for Scorp. My best friend is not to be missed, even with all the people swarming around. I've never seen someone with hair as notable as his, as white blond. That is, until I met his father.

I ran to Scorp to tell him all about Uncle George's latest invention - fake vampire teeth with sparkly blood running out of the fangs, writing dirty words on the throats of your victim that stick for days. Not one of his more sophisticated devices, I'll give you that, but a funny one nevertheless.

However, I stopped short in my tracks when I saw who Scorp was talking to. Although I had never seen this man before, I didn't doubt he was Scorp's father. The same white blond hair, the same pale skin, the same upright posture. Only, where Scorp's face was soft and his eyes blue, this man had an angled face with a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and narrowed eyes, grey like pebbles. Those eyes were staring at me, with superiority or perhaps condescension, and did I see amusement, too?

'You must be a Potter,' he stated. I nodded, but couldn't form a proper introduction. I never saw such eyes before, sucking me in, veiled and promising in a way that made me imagine all the things I should not think about.

The spell broke as I heard hasty footsteps behind my back, suddenly stopped short in their tracks, too. Without turning around, I knew Dad was looking for me and was now, perhaps for the first time in years, confronted with his schoolyard nemesis. He never spoke much about Draco Malfoy, about all their mutual hatred, about saving Malfoy from the Fiendfyre. Dad always looked a bit sad when talking about him, so I avoided the subject, too.

Surprise fleeted over Malfoy's face, just a short moment, before he once again composed himself and drawled 'Potter'.

'Malfoy.'

'I believe you haven't met my son, Scorpius, before? And that must be your son, if the green eyes, black shrubbery and ever so fitting Weasley jumper are anything to go by.'

'Dad!'

My father's jaw set, surprise and something sad giving way to anger, but he contained himself and said, 'No, we haven't met before I think, although Albus has told me a lot about him.'

He shook Scorp's hand and continued, 'And this is indeed my son, Albus Severus. I'm sorry for interrupting, but we have to go. Al, you have to say goodbye to your Mum and Grandma, and promise Grandma you'll eat enough. Then you can go back to Scorpius and manage mischief until the Christmas holidays.'

Feeling strangely regretful, I followed Dad to the rest of the family. I saw Malfoy's brow raise, but he didn't say anything else.

All the way to Hogwarts, however, I couldn't get Malfoy out of my head.

His upright posture and lean, slender frame. The long black buttoned coat he cloaked himself in, broad at the shoulders, tailored at the waist, and flaring from his hips all the way down to his boots, the latter no doubt being the same expensive dragonhide his leather gloves were made of. It made his pale skin and equally pale hair stand out even more so. As it did with the sharp angles of his face and his steely, guarded eyes.

I closed my eyes. This man did things to me, making me think dangerous thoughts, making me feel things beyond my control. I decided it was better to never meet him again.

*

So, two years, several one-offs in Hogwarts' corridors, and one un-diminishing obsession with this Malfoy later, tell me why exactly did I agree with _him_ preparing me for my NEWT in Arithmancy?

'Why, Dad?'

We were standing in the hallway, and Dad was buttoning up my cloak. Before you ask, of course I can do this myself, but Dad was acting a bit strange. I hoped he didn't notice how nervous I was. I couldn't actually believe Dad has owled Malfoy, asking to tutor me. 

'Because he's the best, as I've told you numerous times by now.' Dad's voice was a little high-pitched, as he tried to button up my cloak with slightly trembling fingers.

'But Aunt Hermione is also an Arithmancy Master, and you always say she's brilliant at everything she does.'

'Believe me, I tried to convince her to give you extra lessons. But she stood her ground, saying I should ask Malfoy. Because he understands the subject like nobody else, and also because he works in the field, and could tell you something about career perspective.'

'But I'm not even sure if I want to become an Arithmancy Consultant.' I tried.

'I know. But he can teach you some valuable things, anyway. Now stop whining and stand still, for Merlin's sake!'

Somehow, I got the impression of Dad being as nervous as I was. Maybe it was because his voice was hitting a higher register when he spoke. Or maybe because he tried to flatten my hair for the umpteenth time, while fidgeting with the buttons of my cloak.

'Dad! Stop pawing my hair, or my clothes, or anything else! You're making me nervous!' No need, of course, telling him _my_ nerves had been actually stretched out for several days already.

'Okay. You're right, this will do.

Now, let's see. Where is the Floo address of his office … Ah, here it is. Um. Why does he write so ridiculously tiny? I think it says… Mr Malfoy, Siren Alley, Wizarding London. Okay.'

'Dad, you're not going with me, all right? I'm an adult already, I can do this alone.'

Merlin, how embarrassing would that be. How horrifying the thought of seeing him again and what it will do to me, this would all get infinitely worse with Dad around, too.

I'll probably make a huge fool out of myself anyway, like last time I saw him, when I couldn't even act like a normal wizard.

I'm secretly hoping he's grown old and unattractive in the two years I haven't seen him. Or perhaps he has developed a squeaky voice due to a potion gone wrong.

Or maybe somewhere along the way he decided to wear only Hawaiian print shirts and talk exclusively in Celestina Warbeck lyrics. Anything to make him less attractive, because seriously, what could come out of this stupid obsession? Apart from wanking myself cross-eyed while picturing him, knowing I will never feel his undoubtedly perfect cock piercing me and fucking me within an inch of my life.

Dad looked reluctant, but finally nodded and gave me the piece of parchment, the address written on it in a small, neat handwriting.

*

And so I'm standing in front of his office, faced by a large wooden door with a brass knocker and a small nameplate underneath. 'Malfoy', it simply reads. I take a breath, flatten my hair once more, and knock. After a short while, footsteps resound in the hall, and the door opens.

'Albus.'

I'm not very tall, and he is towering above me. Unfortunately for me, he looks every inch the same man as two years ago, the one engraved in my mind. The same lean build, the same haughty features, the same piercing eyes. I feel my mouth getting dry and once again curse myself for having agreed with Dad and Hermione to ask him for lessons.

But at the same time, I know why I would have never rejected their suggestion. Because I'm dying to see him again, even though I know he's so, so forbidden, and it is all so very _wrong_. He is the father of my best friend, for Merlin's sake! And my Dad's nemesis. And maybe an ex-Death Eater. And rumoured to immerse himself in Dark magic. And probably not even gay. And so many things more, but I forget about all these things and also about my ability to speak or my proper manners, as I'm standing on his doorstep.

He smiles a rather nasty smile. 'Do come in.'

I step over the threshold, following him into a corridor with a high ceiling and marble tiles echoing the clacking soles of his boots. I grow uncomfortable, feeling under-dressed with my trainers, but before too long he stops at the door in the end of the corridor.

'After you.'

I enter the room, feeling his eyes following me as my feet sink into the thick Persian rug covering most of the wooden floor. The room stretches out on my right, with a floor-to-ceiling window letting the afternoon light in and giving the room a golden glow. In the middle is a huge mahogany desk, leather overlaying the surface. Hundreds of books cover one entire wall. Everything screams posh, pure-blood, Galleons, and I don't dare to take a good look. Instead, I seat myself in the large wooden chair he points out, and stare at my hands in my lap.

'Well.'

He has seated himself on the opposite side of the desk, elbows on the armrest of the chair, fingertips placed against each other, looking at me with an unreadable expression. He wears robes, dark grey like his eyes, and again tailored to perfection, following his every plane, every curve of his muscles.

'Tea?'

Um. I didn't know what I was expecting, but certainly not him offering me a cuppa. And I don't want to confess I only drink builder's tea, instead of a concoction of first-flush Asian moondew leaves, tenderly scorched by Hungarian Horntails on a waxing moon's night, or something equally posh (and ridiculous) he probably has to offer. Also, the tea will likely wobble out of the cup due to my nerves, and then I will drop the irreplaceable cup, and I'll end up with my ears being hexed backwards. So no.

'No thank you. Um. Sir.'

He smiles. 'You're here for business. I appreciate that.'

I relax a little and lean against the leather back of the chair.

'Your father wants me to help you with Arithmancy.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Your NEWTs are coming, and you want to grasp a better hold of the subject.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And so your father decided to ask me. Such an interesting choice. Does he know what I'm doing, you think? No, wait. Do _you_ actually know what kind of magic I practice?'

I'm a bit overtaken by his question, while fighting my nervousness and temptation to stare at his mouth. However, he doesn't wait for my answer.

'Whatever they've taught you in class, it's wrong. Or, maybe not wrong, but the boring, safe, powerless version of what Arithmancy can really be.

'And that's definitely not the version I am going to teach you. Because, Albus, Arithmancy is not some refined form of Divination. Arithmancy is about magical forces. About magic flowing, stretching out, rippling and recoiling. About understanding these forces and using them. Muggles call it 'physics', but they only know the tiniest piece of what is really going on.

'And imagine the power you have when you can calculate the potency, the direction, the localisation of these forces. Of how they will behave, how you can alter them. You can build and design spells, strengthen incantations, use your own magical forces to direct the infinitely greater flows surrounding us.'

I listen to him, breathless. His eyes have flared to life through his talking, looking at me so alive and so intense, I can not look away from him. And right through my nervousness, I feel arousal spark, making my heart beat faster and tingling along my spine.

'Like the Arithmancy I practice is unconventional, my ways of teaching too are… unusual. Dangerous, some would say.'

He walks around his desk, smooth like a feline, and seats himself on top of it, right in front of me and within alarmingly few inches distance. I feel my palms getting sweaty, and my arousal is definitely not going away like this. Just what I needed. I consider shifting in my chair, but settle on hoping my robes will cover any evidence.

I feel his eyes roaming my face. He lays one long, pale finger under my chin, forcing me to look up. His eyes are narrowed and filled with cold amusement, like a cat in that very second before stretching out its claws and fixing its prey. I actually half expect him to grow talons and pin me down, although it won't be necessary since I don't dare moving for his gaze alone.

'Do you trust me, Albus?'

'No,' my mind screams.

'Yes.' My voice sounds raspy. His gaze travels to my throat as I make a frantic effort to swallow, and he smiles.

'Consider working on your plausibility, Albus.'

He leans forward even more, his gaze fixing mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheeks. As he speaks, his voice is soft and dangerous.

'As I said, my methods are unconventional. Dangerous, some might say. But highly successful. You give me access, I give you my knowledge.' 

I gulp and get a coughing fit. Access to what? My cock is seriously stirring now, wide awake and leaving little doubt as how to interpret his words.

'Access?' I croak.

'Access to your mind.' The last word comes out on a breath. His eyes are cold and his gaze intense, like he's looking right through me. I hear the blood pounding in my ears.

What in Merlin's name is he going to do? Is he going to use Veritaserum on me? I do not want to think about what truth I will spill when asked the right questions. Like the real reason I'm here. Or what I want him to learn me, since I couldn't care less about Arithmancy right now, and all the more about how his body looks under those immaculate robes. How he would kiss me, pinning me against the wall. How his slender hands and long, pale fingers will feel as they roam my body, pressing in the dimples on my lower back, cupping my arse. How his cock would taste on my tongue, and how it will be when he loses himself, head thrown back, pale throat exposed, fisting his hands in my hair when I nearly gag on it, trying to swallow it all.

'Are you… is it… Are you gonna use Veritaserum, sir?'

He leans back and smirks.

'Oh, no. No. Veritaserum can be fun, but it is quite plebeian, if you ask me. And then you have the fuzzying side effects, while I so like my company mentally lucid and crisp. No, I think Legilimency is much more elegant, and quite like Arithmancy. You locate the magic flowing through someone's mind, hop on that very flow, and let it carry you for a while. See where it brings you, which subjects come to surface.'

His hand cups my chin again, nails scraping softly over the stubble lining my jaw. I feel heat flaring through my body, running over my limbs.

'Sir, I am sorry, but I do not understand how this is going to prepare me for my NEWTs?'

'It can also be used to share ideas, to nudge already existing thought processes. To help you understand our beloved subject some more. After all, that is why you are here, right?'

It sounds pretty scary and I have a hard time concentrating with him touching my jaw, but he's right. I am here to learn things, to ace my NEWTs and get a career afterward. Not to make a fool out of myself and get all hot and bothered over someone who doesn't want me, who I cannot have. Maybe I'll wank a few times more with him in mind, to get him out of my system, but that will be it. I'll better get this over with. If I focus on the Arithmancy and push these impossible thoughts back, I can get this over with as fast as I could, go home, take a cold shower and never see him again. I can do this, damn it.

I force myself to look him in the eyes. He looks at me intensely, then waves his hand. His eyes darken and I feel waves of unfamiliar magic flowing into my subconsciousness.

I stiffen, caught off guard by the sensation, feeling invaded and for some reason also very turned on. This is absolutely not according to plan, as I feel my control is slipping away already. My mind squirms under its intruder, like a young horse put under the saddle for the first time, trying to throw his magic off. Pushing back all my indecent thoughts about him as hard as I can, our eye contact breaks as I try to push him out of my mind. I feel his magic pushing against mine, but slowly drawn back to the edges of my mind nevertheless.

'No.' His voice is sharp. He grabs my chin and forces me to look up once more. His magic gains power again, like a warm flow rushing through my mind.

'Tell me, Albus, what is it you want to hide? What makes you so unwilling to open up for me? Thoughts nobody knows about you? Or perhaps, something they would not approve of?'

I feel my face heat up under his hand. He smiles, his amusement a strange tingling sensation in my head.

'I see.'

Merlin, I feel so embarrassed. Sitting here with an increasing boner and all sorts of indecent thoughts about him, thoughts he can probably read in my mind any moment now. I must leave, before things will get out of hand. He'll probably never want to see me or my father again after this debacle, but they weren't exactly friends in the first place, so not much is lost on that.

I desperately force myself to look away again, focusing once more to push him and his magic out. My cock protests, as does my mind, feeling bereft of his warmth as I feel his magic tumbling over the outer edges of my mind. Isn't it lovely, having your most important body parts betraying you when you really need them to behave?

I open my mouth to tell him this is maybe not such a good idea, that I'll be a waste of his time anyway, that I have to go home since dinner might get cold and I also forgot to feed my kneazle, as he suddenly steps off the desk and pulls me out of the chair.

Standing opposed, his face is barely an inch from mine, his jaw set and his eyes stormy. I might have collapsed back in the chair, if not for his hands grabbing the front of my robes and twisting the fabric, forcing me to stay upwards.

'Don't,' he hisses, and then kisses me, rough and demanding. His lips crush against mine, tongue forcing me to open up for him. I try to back away, but he hauls my body against his and grabs my hair, pulling my head slightly backwards as he sucks on my tongue, my bottom lip, and he tastes so very, very good. I whimper, my resistance crumbles and I try to kiss him back. He gasps and then I feel his magic once more, crashing hungrily into my mind. It tastes like him, heated and dark and rich, and it is making my head spin with arousal. My cock strains against the zipper of my jeans. Merlin, how I want him.

Suddenly, he breaks the kiss. He shoves me back into the chair, a nasty, satisfied smile upon his face.

'I thought so.'

For a moment I am stunned, slowly processing what just happened. Then I realize my last thought and embarrassment hits me like a freight train. That slimy fucker was only testing me out, and I just forgot about all my objections and let him practically eat me.

'Slimy fucker? My, my. Language, Albus.'

He is standing there casually, arms folded, his mouth a cruel smile. It makes me livid, and I have to suppress the urge to punch him full on that stupid smirk. Instead, I force my anger to push him roughly out of my mind, and storm to the door.

My Quidditch reflexes are fast, but his wand arm is faster. He casts a spell I do not recognize, and I hear the lock clicking, securing my exit. Fuck. I turn towards him, my initial fear and reverence for him completely taken over by anger.

'Why the hell did you do that for? I think you've embarrassed me enough. You read my thoughts, had a good laugh over it, and Dad will even pay you for it. Now open up the bloody door!'

'No.'

'Open the fucking door!'

Nothing.

I kick at the door. 'Open it!'

Suddenly he's behind me, pressing me against the door. 'You look so pretty when you're angry, Albus. How am I supposed to let you go like this, hm?'

He turns me so I'm facing him, grabs my wrists, and pins them above my head. Another murmured incantation, and suddenly my wrists are surrounded by a golden mist, fixed in place without visible restraints.

Holy fuck. I'm mad and ashamed, but standing here, bound to the door, being at his mercy, it is also _really_ turning me on. Merlin, what a mess. And what even is this spell?

He smiles, like he can read my thoughts from a distance now. 'Arithmancy. An invention of mine, this small magical field keeping objects in place. Elegant, no?'

Elegant? I have no time for aesthetics. I really have to go, before my control slips away completely.

I kick backwards at the door, but nothing happens. My wand is in the back pocket of my trousers, but it's impossible to get it out with my hands pinned above my head.

'Look, why don't you let me go. I…'

'Hush.' He lays one finger on my lips. I'm still angry as hell, feeling humiliated and also ashamed of myself. This man is locking me up and restraining me to my place, and I still want him, want him to kiss me, want him to take me over. Desperate, I try to bite his finger, but he grabs my chin, his eyes cold and stern. The restraints around my wrists elevate slightly, making me stand on the front of my feet, and forcing me to balance carefully.

'Don't. This will be so much more uncomfortable for you, Albus, if you don't obey. The lesson is not quite over, and I like to finish what I start.'

Merlin, I understand nothing of this man. What does he want from me? Why would he want to read my mind so bad he even kisses me to make me lower my defences, then breaks off the kiss to laugh at me, but refuses to let me go? Is he trying to make me admit I want him? But he already knows, and he doesn't want this, too. He doesn't want me like I want him. Right?

He still stands alarmingly nearby, my body trapped between him and the door. His clean-shaven jaw looks smooth and soft, and he smells like grass after rain. I feel my arousal cutting right through the haze of vitriol in my head.

He leans towards me. I should turn away but I can't. His proximity, the way he smells, the feeling of his breath on my face, the burning in his eyes, it all makes me want him so much. He must feel my hesitance, since he strengthens his grip on my chin and then kisses me again, rough and commanding. My anger boils again, anger towards him for making me feel this way, for making me lose control and for making me want him so bad. I try to kick him on the shin, but just miss as he quickly steps aside. He makes a low hissing sound and kisses me even more forcefully, biting hard on my bottom lip. Our teeth clash, the pain making my anger boil over, and then I fight him back, searching his tongue, pinning it down, making him open up for me. I'm biting him, seeking out his soft bottom lip, and it's only when tasting blood, his or mine I don't know, I realize I'm kissing him back and his hands are clutching my hair, roaming over my body. I feel my cock getting fully hard again, trapped in my jeans. My hips move forward, push against his groin, my erection finding his equally hard cock. He grabs my arse and pulls me to him, quickened breath escaping in warm huffs against my mouth.

He unfastens the buttons so my robes fall open, revealing my T-shirt and jeans. With my wrists bound and my body stretched out, my shirt has crept up, showing a trail of dark hair descending into my pants. I feel fleeting relief I didn't put on my Nargles briefs from Aunt Luna's 'Hung Like A Humdinger' underwear line, before he catches my attention again, his hands trailing under my shirt and tracing my hipbones.

He continues to kiss me violently, and I kiss him back equally rough. His lips are soft and he tastes like salt and blood. Clever fingers open the buttons of my jeans, pulling my cock out.

'Still want to leave?' he snarls, slightly breathless.

He grabs my cock, rubs his thumb over the slit. I gasp, throwing my head back at the feeling of his long fingers and firm, confident grip around my cock. Arousal sparks through my body as he slowly starts to move his hand, long strokes, lingering at the head, twisting the foreskin as he goes. This is nothing like the one-offs I've had in Hogwarts' corridors, with an equally nervous, clumsy student, uneasy chuckles, and always the fear lingering that Mrs. Norris could round the corner any minute. And they will probably never again be satisfying, after being kissed and touched by this ravenous man, who forces me to surrender, and who kisses me like this. Like he's so very hungry for it. Like he needs it as much as I do.

Just as I feel the beginning of my orgasm building, making my knees weak and my balls draw up, he stills his hand and steps backwards. With a flick of his wand, my robes and shirt are gone. His eyes roam over my body with a predatory, hungry look. It feels thrilling, being exposed like this, unable to hide with my wrists locked into place, body stretched taut, my hard cock hanging out of my trousers and his eyes taking it all in.

Without breaking eye contact, he starts to unbutton his robes. Underneath he's wearing a crisp white button-down and grey woollen trousers, fitted so narrow I can clearly see the outline of his hard cock. And Merlin, what a promising sight. He undoes his shirt, revealing a pale abdomen. He is as lean and rangy as I imagined he would be, with flat planes and jutting hipbones.

His long pale fingers roam over the black leather of his belt, before he unbuckles the silver clasp, slowly pushing his trousers and pants down until just below his arse. His cock springs out, large and thick, the deep-flushed red contrasting with the pale hair curling at the base.

I feel my mouth getting dry. I want to touch him so bad, if not for the bonds holding me into place. Damn those. I desperately pull at them, but they don't give an inch.

He sees me tugging at the bonds but says nothing, just smiling that nasty smile again, grey eyes darkening.

Merlin. I feel like going mad, needing to touch him, touch myself, to devour him and let him devour me. My cock is harder than ever, and I wonder if I could come from just looking at him alone.

'Please, sir. I want… I need to, please.'

Eyes dark and heavy lidded, he makes a low noise in the back of his throat. I feel my arms falling down, apparently a bit paralyzed after their unnatural placing. The shimmer is still there, however, and I cannot pull my wrists apart.

He pushes me down onto my knees, standing just in front of me. I stare at his cock, so close I only have to stick out my tongue to taste him, to feel him lying hot and heavy in my mouth. I open my mouth but he grabs my hair and holds my head in place, then takes his cock in hand and gives himself a couple of long, slow strokes. Merlin. That may be the hottest and most frustrating thing at once I've ever seen, being so close but unable to reach him.

I look up to see him staring down at me. He traces my jawline with the head of his cock, then taps it softly against my bottom lip. I open my mouth, waiting for him to push forward, but he releases my hair and doesn't move. The moment stretches out, my heart hammering in my throat, my arousal and nerves making me almost dizzy under his fixed gaze. He taps my lips again, and then I lean slightly forward, taking the head in my mouth. It is hot and heavy and slightly moist with precome, and I sigh around it, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding.

My tongue licks his slit, while I softly suck on the head. He huffs and his hands roam over my head again, gripping my hair and letting go, like he doesn't allow himself to grab it properly. I feel my own cock throbbing, hard and neglected. I try to stroke myself awkwardly with my still-bound hands, and Merlin, even the little bit of friction feels so good. Reinforcing my strokes, I take him in more deeply, moaning around his cock.

He inhales sharply, grabs my hair, and thrusts his hips forward, making me take him all the way in. Holding my head in place, he starts fucking my mouth. I hollow my cheeks and try to suck him hard. My eyes begin to water, as I try to keep my gag reflex under control.

I look up again, and as I find him staring down, darkened eyes riveted to mine, he stills and then his magic bursts to life in my head. It tastes dark and fiery with arousal and it overwhelms me, engulfing me, flooding through me. His eyes are glowing and he picks up the pace, driving his hips forward, thrusting deep into my mouth. It's making me gag, making me teary, and I don't want him to ever stop. I want to swallow him whole, want to revel in the rich feeling of his magic washing over me.

'Albus,' I hear him whisper, or maybe that's only in my head. It doesn't matter, as long as he keeps flooding my mind with his, as long as he lets me have his cock as I touch mine.

'Let me touch you,' I beg him silently, and my hands are free to move again. I grab his hips, tracing his hipbones with my thumb, letting my hands glide over his arse cheeks and the tightened muscles of his legs. His balls are hot and heavy like his cock, and his eyes flutter as I roll his balls in my palm, kneading them while he continues to fuck my mouth, all without breaking eye contact. His magic is turbulent, and I feel something other than arousal and power trickling into my subconscious, something like want, as if it's tried to be kept at bay, but gradually slipping through anyway. Like his control is leaking away.

I feel my balls draw up as I hear him making small noises in the back of his throat, his eyes never letting go of mine. He must be as close as I am. I am desperate for release, the arousal and heat rushing through my head almost unbearable, but I don't want this to end. This incredible feeling of his magic, his heated gaze, the low sounds he makes as I suck his cock in deep, swallowing him whole, over and over until I am gagging and light-headed for the lack of breathing. The idea of him fighting for control as much as I do, of him wanting this as much. The waves in my head are heating up even more, and I grab my cock, starting to tug it fiercely as I feel my orgasm draw near, or maybe that's his, but I don't have time to process this as I am hit by probably the most intense orgasm of my life. I gasp and want to throw my head back, but he grabs my hair even harder and as his eyes flutter shut, I feel his come flooding my mouth, bitter and warm. His whole body shudders as I continue sucking, trying to suck him dry, until he pulls my head back, drawing his cock out of my mouth. The waves in my head are slowing down, leaving a smouldering aftertaste. I sag against the door and close my eyes, revelling in the afterglow of my orgasm and the comforting warmth of his magic settling down.

He clears his throat, and suddenly the warmth is gone. As I open my eyes, he is fully dressed again, looking no different than when I first entered the room, if not for a slightly less pale colour on his cheekbones. He points at the corner, where my shirt and robes are lying. Still a bit wobbly on my legs, I obediently walk over and put them on again. He's standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded, looking impenetrable.

'Lesson's over Albus. It's time for you to go home.'

I've got a thousand questions, which I don't really dare to ask. Like, what did he read in my mind; did he teach me some things about Arithmancy along the way; did I feel his emotions seeping through, or were they only mine; does Legilimency always feel this good; are there any after-effects; and, most important of all, can he give me another lesson?

'But sir…'

'No. My time is valuable, and this was enough lesson for today.'

For today. My mind jumps at it like a crup at a bone, eagerly considering all the things he didn't do to me. He would teach me thoroughly, I'm sure.

He walks to the door, unlocking it, and leading me to his Floo.

'Um. Thank you, sir, for making time for me today.'

His eyes narrow, he looks amused. 'I value the importance of a good education, Albus.' Reluctant, I take a handful of powder and step through the Floo.

*

Later that night in bed, I feel exhausted but my head won't stop thinking today over. I didn't think it possible, but I'm afraid I want him even more after this afternoon. I already miss his smell, his gaze holding mine, darkened and alive, the taste of his cock on my tongue and his magic in my mind. Would he have felt my magic, too? How would it taste, maybe as fiery and dark as his? And at the end, as the heat was building, I felt something more trickling through than just arousal and the enforcement of his will. I wonder if it really was him losing control I sensed. Maybe I should read some more about this whole Legilimency tomorrow, after a good night's sleep. And a small wank. Just one.

That night, I strangely enough don't dream about him. I dream about getting a wonderful blowjob, before being rudely interrupted by a chagrined, talking toothbrush.

I wake up puzzled and with a sudden urge to wash my hair, and I decide I should make a new appointment with Malfoy, if only to ask if he maybe left more traces in my mind than he planned to. And if he could please do so again.

**Author's Note:**

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